


Not the Worst Thing Ever

by pippen2112



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Dysphoria, M/M, Menstruation, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Trans Male Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-28
Updated: 2018-07-28
Packaged: 2019-06-17 17:01:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 916
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15465987
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pippen2112/pseuds/pippen2112
Summary: Tucker hides away when his period hits.  Luckily, Locus is surprisingly perceptive.





	Not the Worst Thing Ever

**Author's Note:**

> Written for RvB Trans Week 2k18. Special thanks to the-felix-mcscouty for beta reading for me.

Tucker flops on his cot, groaning. Every inch of him aches, and from more than just the workout Locus put him through today. _And I used to think Wash had no chill about training._ But at least he was able to get himself out of his armor and into a pair of sweatpants. Small miracles. 

Grumbling, he curls onto his side, hugging his knees to his chest. The strain is killing him, but if he has to choose between tending to some sore muscles or these stupid fucking cramps, he’s gonna choose the latter. _If only I’d thought to grab my hot water bottle. Or, y’know, a couple extra years worth of testosterone._ But then again, it’s not like he’d known that they were gonna crash on a war-torn planet and he wouldn’t have access to it. Stupid supply lines.

Just as he settles onto his side, there’s a knock at his door. Fuck, it’s nearly dinner time, and Caboose gets nosy when someone doesn’t show up. “Go away, Caboose!” he hollers over his shoulder, hoping beyond hope it’s enough to shoo him away.

“Tucker,” comes a smooth, deep voice, the same voice that spent the last hours growling at him and pushing him through set after set, lap after lap. Locus. Even if they’ve been hanging out more and more since Locus decided to put down roots on Iris with the rest of them, he’s really the last person Tucker wants to see right now. 

A pang shoots through his groin, hot and uncomfortable. He hisses through his teeth and clutches his legs tighter.

“Lavernius, is everything alright?”

 _No, my uterus is punishing me for not getting knocked up._ He doesn’t say so, mostly because he’d miss getting to see Locus struggle to process that information. God, that might almost be worth letting him in. “I’m fine,” he shouts. “Just sore because _someone’s_ a fucking sadist.”

For a long moment, Locus doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t move either, not that Tucker can hear. Gritting his teeth against another surge of pain, Tucker opens his mouth to reassure him, but he hears Locus’s deceptively light footsteps pad down the hall. _Good,_ he thinks even as he ducks his head and shrinks in on himself. It’s not like Locus and he are anything important to each other. Not like either of them have made a move toward commitment. Not like Locus would even stick around if he knew that the bulge he’s felt the few times they’ve made out is made of silicone.

Another knock startles him from that train of thought. “Lavernius,” Locus says softly, tenderly, “may I please come in?”

He wants to say something snarky back, or tell him to go fuck off, but how could he say no to a badass sniper who’s built like a brick shit house on the outside and a cuddly marshmallow on the inside? Still, he scoffs a little, just for show, and calls, “Fine, I guess.”

The door opens and closes behind him, and Locus quietly crosses the room. Tucker tries not to jump when his cot dips from Locus sitting down beside him. By some miracle, he doesn’t turn to look, probably because every little twitch makes him feel like dying. 

Before he can ask what Locus wanted, there’s something warm pressed against his arms. “Here.” Tucker blinks his eyes and comes face to face with his hot water bottle, the one he had to smuggle through basic and usually keeps in his armor for fear of losing it. His eyes bulge, and he throws himself sideways to look at Locus, instantly regretting it. But Locus just pulls his hands into his lap and twines his fingers together. “The warmth should help.”

As his throat goes dry, Tucker sucks in a slow breath, praying that will make his heart stop pounding in his ears. “You…” he trails off and clears his throat. “How long have you known?”

Exhaling, Locus turns to meet his gaze. Without his helmet, Tucker can see the natural downward curve of his mouth, but his eyes are warm and steady. “No one outted you; your team cares for you too much to do that. But you're not the first transman I’ve known.”

The urge to pry springs into Tucker’s mind, but he nips that in the bud. It’s not his place to ask, and it’d be shitty of him to put Locus in that position. Instead, he squeezes the water bottle in between his legs and stomach and sighs at the warmth. “Thanks,” he says quietly, tucking his chin to his chest.

“You’re welcome.” Locus reaches out and lays his hand on Tucker’s flank, rubbing his thumb across the muscle until Tucker groans. “Would it be helpful if I massaged your back?”

He lets out an indecent noise, cuddling the water bottle closer. “So long as I don’t have to move.”

Locus chuckles. “I suppose I can manage.”

Moments later, warm, calloused palms spread over his shoulders, moving in smooth, firm strokes over his shirt. Tucker moans, pressing into each touch, not even realizing as he turns onto his stomach and Locus shifts into position over him. His eyes flutter closed as Locus moves down his body, using every bit of strength to unknit Tucker’s sore muscles. 

He drifts off to the feeling of Locus’s hands on him, a smile spreading across his face. If this is the kind of attention it gets him, maybe shark week isn’t the worst thing ever.

**Author's Note:**

> Questions, comments, and concrit welcome. Come scream with me on Tumblr (birdsbeesandlemonadetrees.tumblr.com)


End file.
